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Petals of a Dying Rose
Setting Chapter 0 - Prologue Lord Kalak Wilharn remembered when the four Draconic Terrace's floated around the Gran'Marus Spear; the tower center of Dhanaren where the council of seven recided, ruled over by the Grand Magi himself. It had been ages since trust in gods was something that was very real. He had read the Draconic Tragedy a hundred times before, studied its text, even learned the language it was first written in; and could even list the names of the four hundred demi-wyrms birthed by Thra'andumar towards the finals days of the red dragon's reign so many ages ago. Despite all of his knowledge, all his cunning involving dragons... He had deemed them to be a blight across the realm. Kalak Wilharn hated the Keepers and what they had done to his home. Nearly seven years had passed since the Battle of the Scorched Wing and Dhanaren had changed very much since those dark days when dragons still roamed the lands of Tharnor. Dhanaren had lost its previous Grand Magi, executed publicly before the masses of the arcane city and now was occupied by soldiers of the Carth Bruik Empire. The city, leaderless turned to the forces at the borders of their gates looking for aid. That's when Kalak was appointed "Acting" Grand Magi by Emperor Markell Vice himself, to oversee rule of Dhanaren for Carth Bruik. Sorcerers were deemed treacherous, and untrustworthy as numerous events were recalled singing of destruction and bloodshed caused only by sorcerers, not wizards or other mages alike. The Peaceful Enlightenment Act was written, both by Kalak, Markell Vice, and that young Inisma boy... There was something off about him, and though he had only reached his fifteenth summer there was a wisdom in those cold and stern eyes that marveled past his years. Kalak feared this young man, and he knew Emperor Vice shared a similar opinion. The doctrine stated that sorcerers were to be relocated from the city and placed into Magic Management Encampments where they were trained to control their arcane, while other, stronger sorcerers were given the option to forsake their torrents altogether, a skill that the young Inisma boy created himself. Different then simply locking away the focal points that generated torrential sparks leaving the victim in a permanent catatonic state, Nicholis' method was a precise craft that destroyed one's torrent altogether, leaving them barren, empty, without the means of generating magic. Those who had enough coin could buy their way out of the encampments and continue leading their sorcerer lives, however, the buyout was nearly impossible, as many homes in Dhanaren were emptied out altogether. The city, became a much quieter and still place to live, however, fear still hung over every mage's head. Kalak soon realized that it wasn't a war on sorcerers, but a war on magic... "And these are all of them, you're sure of it?" Kalak groaned, peering at the lack of scrolls slowly being unloaded from a floating disk spell cast by his grand squire. The boy, nearing his twelfth winter nodded his head. He had traversed the numerous halls of the Prophet's Archive earlier that morning spending nigh on ten counts searching for the ancient tomes and scrolls Kalak had instructed him to seek out. "Aye, my lord. I did as you asked, these are what remain of the Draconic Prophesies, I swear it." The squire lowered his head to avoid the piercing frustration cast from Kalak's eyes. Twelve scrolls and three tomes. This is what was laid out across the Grand Magi's illustrious writing desk. "Master of Tomes, Elder Gorbrig assured me that half the archive was lost when Dhanaren was attacked by Thra'andumr's armies all those years back." "Elder Gorbrig has less sense in him then you do coin in your pocket, boy." Kalak growled, "Those prophecies should have been sealed away in a safer location. Some of those revelations were claimed from the Halls of Avaroth when the Old Gods were banished into the blackness of the veil; their worth was invaluable." The squire lowered his head even further and fell back to the only defense he had against nobles and lords. "I'm sorry, your grace-" Before the squire could finish, Kalak flicked his wrist as a sharp bolt of violet energy leapt from his finger and charged into the chest of the bowing squire. The boy had seen his last winter, as a great pulse surged through his body killing him where he stood. With a loud sigh, Kalak turned an eye to the disk still suspended in air. A surge of purple swelled around the once blue of his eyes as the Grand Magi took control of the disk. A similar light radiated around the disk, as abruptly it appeared beneath the corpse of the squire and lifted him like a steaming plate of food and carried him off into the hall and out of sight. "Grand squires are easy to replace, however, they continue to prove their incompetence at every turn." Kalak thought to himself as he began to tear away the ribbons that sealed the scrolls. "No matter, even a mindless construct can prove more useful then that of the naive students attending the Royal Squire Academy." With his second thought, a powerful glyph abruptly formed where the corpse had once lied. Rising from the radiant arcana shining through the glyph, a rune forged golem stood before the Grand Magi. Like a shimmering suit of armor wisping with spectral energy, the construct awaited orders from its master. "Bring me the Master of Tomes, Elder Gorbrig at once." Kalak said with a commanding voice as he began to lay out the first scroll before him. Adhering to the command, the construct turned from its master's gaze and made off towards the Prophet's Archive. The scrolls now unbound, Kalak turned to the first draconic tome. Flipping with haste to the final page he watched as draconic text formed magically against the tattered paper bound within the book. Slowly, letter after letter appeared on the page appearing in a minuscule spectral light. "This cannot be..." Said aloud, "The Keepers are gone... Yet the fate of dragons in this realm are still being written... How?" The troubled mage thought to himself, fear creeping back into his heart. What dragon still lived? Chapter 1 - Empty Hearts & Broken Promises With a cry of fear, and a clash of thunder Douglas awoke from his dream. Sweat dripping from his brow, the young boy shivered with fright as the terror of his nightmare was so great it had thrown him from his slumber. The young boy clasped his hands over his face as tears fell from between the cracks of his fingers. It was The Lich again. Though he was long gone, that horrid, malformed creature had left his mark on this poor boy. A wicked scar like that of a jagged bolt lay hewn across Douglas' back. Whimpering to himself, shaking uncontrollably the young boy finally brought himself to cry out, "Mom!" Shivering, clutching himself close for security he waited for his mother to show. Without delay, Rose rushed into the boy's room. Light flooded the dark bedroom, as the mother held the warmth of a lantern close placing it on a nightstand beside Douglas' bed. "What is it, Doug? Are you hurt?" Though Rose was a hot headed, ferocious woman, she still carried a compassion that could not be rivaled for her children. She may have be rough on Douglas from time to time, however, Rose knew when to turn on her mother mind set. Douglas shook his head, unable to conjure the strength to form words. Rose rolled her eyes and took a seat close to her son, at the foot of his bed she scooted closer placing a hand on his wicked scar shaking her head. "Dougie, talk to me or I'm going back to bed, okay?" Several moments passed by, the only sound was that of a second clap of thunder in the distance and the soft whimpers of the frightened boy. "It's that fuckin' Lich again, hm?" With haste Douglas met the concerned gaze of his mother, eyes wet with tears. Rose promptly rolled her eyes and sighed, "Sorry, it's that stupid Lich again, isn't it?" She rephrased, this time avoiding profanities. "He won't go away, Mom." Douglas mumbled through more tears, "He's dead but he still won't leave me alone!" This time he began to sob harder recalling the terrible memories that still haunted him from the events of the Emerald Purge, the day when the Heralds died. A troubled look fell across Rose's face. She remembered when Douglas returned home. When Samuel brought back her baby boy from the white reaches of Glacilias. His eyes were dark and fearful, his lip quivering with fear. Silence overcame him, as the once brave and adventurous boy did not speak for nearly two months. He had watched as his family was slaughtered by the Lich and his madness; no child should endure should terror. With a smile, she placed a comforting hand on his sweat ridden head. "He's undead, sweetie. They never truly die." Douglas began to sniffle once more, fresh warm tears rolling down his cheeks. She was quick to continue, "...But you know, he's scared too, Dougie." She lifted his head to meet her eyes. "...He's... Scared too? Of what?" Douglas asked, a look of confusion across his face as he whiped his nose of a fresh trickle of snot that began to drip from his nostril. "Of you." Rose smiled, wiping a fresh trickle that rolled from his eye. "...Me?" "He's fearful of this." She said, placing a finger against his chest where his heart lied. "Heart. Courage. Something he doesn't have." Douglas lowered his head staring at his chest. "But... I'm only a boy... I don't understand." A confused look masked his expression once again. "Doug, he will never know the warmth of love, or the strength of a beating heart." Rose smiled, pushing hard against his chest knocking him over onto the bed. "...But he finds strength in fear. The more scared you are of him, the stronger he feels. You can't be afraid of him. I won't let you." Douglas was long past slumber. The comforting words his mother said were enough to install a new found bravery in the boy, once again he had found the courage to sleep. Rose silently tip-toed from Douglas' bedroom bringing with the warmth and light cast from the night lantern she clutched so tight. The door creaked ever so slightly to a close as Rose released the ringed mechanism on the door that served as a handle for entry and closure. Immediately, light flooded through the grand hall she stood in, the lantern emitting an aura of light. Wearing nothing but a night gown, her toes felt the rich comfort of the golden Skaratheon influenced carpet that stretched the length of this hall. Great onyx chandeliers hung over her head, as three resided in this hall; however, during the construction of her manor she had read through the plans many years ago and ordered forty three to be placed throughout the estate in various rooms, dining areas, washrooms, halls, studies, and so on and so fourth. She had a lot of things, but no one to share with, aside from her two children... King was long past dead. A creak echoed towards the end of the hall closer towards Sue's room. With a stern look, Rose grasped the lantern tighter and marched in the direction of her daughter's room. Turning the corner, Rose watched as a shadow passed out of sight creeping down the first steps of the grand staircase. Grumbling curses beneath her breath, Rose followed until she reached the start of the stairwell. Looking down, she saw a young girl, wearing her father's hat sitting atop one of the two bear-hound sculpted statues that resided at the start of the grand stairway. "Sue! Get your sandy ass back in bed this instant. It's three counts before first light, young lady." She said with a growl low enough so Douglas couldn't catch wind of her voice. "That little brat cries every-night, Rose. He keeps me up." Sue replied not even bothering to meet eye contact with her enraged mother. It had been years since Sue called Rose "Mom". "That little brat is your brother, Sue." Rose replied, two arm lengths from snatching her from the hound statue. "He's not my brother, he's just a snot nosed, sniffling coward!" She said leaping from the statue moments before Rose could snatch her. "What did you just say?" Rose had to control herself from roaring at her brat of a kid, "Do you have any idea what he has gone through? How could you say such a thing about him-" Sue didn't let her finish, Sue NEVER let her finish. "You mean that crusty corpse?! I don't care! Doug's a coward!" She cried out loud enough for her voice to echo throughout the numerous chambers in the manor. "Shh! Keep your voice down, Sue!" Rose said as she rushed to grab her daughter who fled into an illustrious dining area. Leaping on top of the massive dining table that could seat at least thirty, Sue kicked over several candles and decorative bowls, plates, and cups that fell to the wooden floor with a crash. Thankfully they did not shatter. "No! If it had been me who was taken that day I would have shot that thing right between the eyes, and you know I could do it too! You know I'm a better shot than you!" In truth, she was not. However, in Sue's defense the young girl had only seen her mother fire a hexa-cannon or rifle four times before. "Hell, I'm probably a better shot than dad ever was!" Rose was boiling with anger. At mention of King her temper nearly erupted. Why was King called "Dad" and she wasn't even referred to as "Mother"? Sue cared for a dead man she never met before, more than the woman who birthed her into this forsaken realm. "SUE. Not tonight. Not now. I swear on the ghost of your father if you don't get down from there, and if you don't stop screaming your fucking head off, I will show you how much better of a shot I am than you will ever be." Rose growled, as she stood at the end of the table, her nails digging into the finely crafted wood. "You're not in charge of me!" Sue screamed, as she grabbed one of the remaining cups and with a grunt, tossed it at her mother. "Suerin Hammersoul I am your mother!" Rose finally cried out as she ripped the table cloth from her daughter's feet sending her onto her back, sprawled out across the table. "NO YOU'RE NOT!" Sue roared in protest, as Rose began to pull the table cloth closer to her, bringing her daughter along for the ride. "YOU'RE JUST SOME WHORE FROM DRESDEN!" By this point Rose grabbed the ankle of her daughter and yanked her close. Sue fought as hard as she could, shaking, kicking, pushing, screaming, until finally it was brought to an end with an echoing "SMACK"! Sue's cheek abruptly turned red, as a warm spot formed from the wound. Her father's iconic hat went soaring from her head and hit the carpet below. Tears began to well up, as Sue cried out in agony as she clutched her cheek. Rose grabbed her daughter by her hair and yanked her from the table dragging her towards the duel bear-hound statues at the wake of the stairs. "MY HAT! LET ME GO BACK FOR IT!" Sue cried out in protest as she continued to kick and scream. It was too late. Rose had had enough of her daughter for one night. Ignoring her cries, Rose lifted her daughter over her shoulder and began marching up the stairwell until she reached an already opened door that lead to Sue's bedroom. Throwing her onto a messy bed where the sheets and blankets were already kicked off the mattress, Rose turned back to the door with haste, slammed it shut, and with a key she withdrew from her night gown she locked it. Within, the screams and cries of protest and the numerous curses she probably learned from her mother came from Sue's dirty mouth. "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" She screamed from within the room. With a heavy sigh, and her back to the door, she slumped to the ground, her head hanging heavy between her legs and she curled into a ball of security; clutching her knees. Another creak echoed in the hall, as Rose quickly lifted her head to see Douglas peaking through the crack of his door, sniffling, with fresh tears beginning to form. "No... Dougie, come here-" She said, her voice cracking from sadness. Before she could finish, Douglas slammed his door shut with fear. All that could be heard were the soft whimpers of her boy, and the terrible curses from her daughter, both behind closed doors. Rose lifted her head, as fresh, warm tears began to swell. Shaking her head she denied them, and as soon as they came, they left. She refused to cry. Never again would she show weakness. At the end of the hall, the Hammersoul Insignia stood tall, her family's coat of arms... King's Coat of Arms. Thinking of the man she loved, the man she imagined spending the rest of her days on this miserable realm with, she grew angry. "...I hate you." She whispered, letting her head sink away from sight, sheltered in the comfort of her bundled night gown. "...I hate you so much..."